What the Senses Percieve
by Adrenalynn
Summary: A few things you can learn about Yoite from using your five senses alone. Very fluffy; working the metaphors Whose perspective is it from? You decide.
1. Sight

**This is very old and drabbly; I have tried to spruce it up a bit but like I say, it may come off as a bit amateur. ^^;**

**My other work is most certainly better, and I hope to put something a little more recent online soon! :D**

**Disclaimer: Seeing as this is a FANfiction site, I clearly do not own Nabari no Ou.**

**Enjoy!**

Whenever I look at him, it's like I'm looking at an angel. His skin is the perfect, delicate white of a fresh new lily, and his eyes are wide and sparkling; sapphire blue like the night sky reflected in a clear, still rock pool.

His features are soft and tantalizing like they've been painted and assembled by a greatly experienced craftsman; the ethereal features that come together to form a face I've grown to love so very dearly.

It is framed by the two velvety curtains of his fringe, which parts gently on either side and travels down to just below his chin in length. It is smooth, glossy and coal-black; like the hair you see in shampoo and dye commercials, with those artificially beautiful women parading around and throwing their heads back, allowing their untamed locks to fly asunder and catch the light at every angle. Only Yoite's hair is real and tangible, and he isn't wearing any makeup. That's what makes his beauty feel so right.

The back of his head is a little shaggy, probably where it hasn't been cut in a while; Yukimi usually cuts it himself, and he's no expert, but he does a good job. Yoite never fusses over how he looks, so I can't understand why his hair has such an incandescent glow to it under certain lights; he doesn't use any products in particular, apart from the simple lemon shampoo he gets from the corner shop. Somehow, despite his generally blasé attitude to his appearance, he is perfect anyway. It bewilders me.

He is tall and slight, with a narrow waist and long, elegant limbs; his lankiness tends to make some movements a little awkward, but he always looks bizarrely graceful anyway.

He laughed when I told him, and for the rest of that day, every time he looked in my direction there would be an adorably puzzled smile on his face.

_His smile. _By far the best part of his appearance, if someone was cruel enough to make me choose. His smile is one of those rare, easy smiles; the ones that warm you up and make you want to smile back even when you're crying. His eyes always light up too when he smiles; like little Chinese lanterns, a faint but reassuring glow that is so captivating, you don't even care that there's a chance someone's car will be set on fire by one of them.

So beautiful. I wonder if it hurt him, the day he fell from Heaven.

_Maybe that's where all the scars on his back came from._


	2. Sound

His appearance isn't the only thing I love about his physical self, of course. I could write chapters and chapters about his voice.

It isn't high as such, though when considering his gender, I suppose it is. That, and quiet; soft like a snowy boot taking the first step into a warm cottage at night. He never speaks very loud, unless he's really angry, which is rare. Yoite is very good at controlling his temper, to the extent where I wonder if he feels it at all.

I doubt I'll ever hear another voice quite like his; calm and velvety and, when it needs to be, reassuring too. The voice of a pessimist who likes to see the light in things. I could listen to his voice all day.

Or his laugh. He has a nice laugh; lilting and quiet, like a fairy, which might be considered a little strange but it suits him like nothing else could. I love it when I can make him laugh.

_It's much better than listening to him cry._


	3. Touch

His voice isn't the only thing about him which is soft. He is, too. If I touch a hand to his marble-white skin, I can feel it; white and _so _blissfully soft. I'd expect it to be hard like china, but it's not. Soft and smooth... cool, something I'd like to rub against my cheek.

His hair is soft too. Soft and silky and smooth. Fine tresses, absolutely beautiful in every aspect. I love running my hands through his hair; feeling its lustrous texture as I comb out the knots with my fingers, letting myself sift through every shimmering strand and feel his smooth scalp underneath. He doesn't mind. He says it's cute, the way I play with his hair; something which makes me immediately beam with pride.

Of course, that's nothing compared to when he hugs me. That really is something. Everywhere his skin comes into contact with mine I get goose bumps, and he'll always hold me tight - like I'm important - rather than just awkwardly draping his arms around my shape. The warmth that emanates from his body during those hugs is phenomenally comforting, however faint it may be.

I always us that as an excuse to stroke his back, of course; if his shirt is thin enough I can sometimes feel the tight contours through the fabric; the protruding vertebrae which make up his spine. He is definitely an angel. Perhaps he'll grow wings someday.

_I just hope he doesn't fall, like he usually does._


End file.
